UC-NRLF 


SB    EMfi    bfil 


JEVONS  BLOCK 


KATE  BUSS 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

Professor  Aram  Torossian 
1884-1941 


JEVONS    BLOCK 

A  BOOK  OF  SEX  ENMITY 

BY 

KATE  ,BUSS 


BOSTON 

McGRATH-SHERRILL    PRESS 
NINETEEN    SEVENTEEN 


COPYRIGHT,  NINETEEN  SEVENTEEN 
McGRATH-SHERRILL   PRESS 


Thanks  are  due  to  the  editors  of 

Others,  The  Poetry  Review,  and  The  Boston  Transcript 

for  their  permission  to  reprint  certain  of  the 
poems  included  in  this  volume. 


5 

173 


To  Arabella  and  Arthrite  Bacon, 

To  Ivan  and  Elise, 

To  a  man  who  sees  the  substance 

In  mirrors, 

I  am  indebted 

For  the  truth  of  Jevons  Block. 


Uevovu  IjlocK 


a 


6 


V/fedTs- flower  5 Up  -I 


(7 


iAHasWouen  and  ucpdired 


faeMsttttfM   3h.T)evin,e 


is  "R  •  -  i 

14  _Dric-i-b 


Hafsl^eblotKcd      Telr 


-  -  flani 


ancurc 


5^VVVXX^KWX^y>V^5<^XXX^XXi<»!«^^ 


23 


2,5 


a? 


29 
30 


31 

32 


33 


35 


37 


.  Appraiser. 


CorsettdTC 


Iva.n  Kareuimc  =  11  mnia  Master 


Wkilemiw  Winter 


TSB? 


A.Elj  T^idcmisT 


ka   n 


ooion 


Horatio 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


TYPES 


AND 


COSMETIC  SELLER     .... 

POET 

MASSEUR 

FLORIST 

RUG  MAKER 

DOCTOR 

BRIC-A-BRAC  REPAIRER    . 

COIFFEUSE 

HAT  BLEACHER  ..... 

MANICURE 

APPRAISER 

SHOE  SALESMAN        .... 

\ 

CORSETIERE 

DANCING  MASTER     .... 

DRESSMAKER 

DRUG  CLERK 

PHOTOGRAPHER 

TAXIDERMIST 

TEA  ROOM  MANAGER 
ENTERTAINMENT  BUREAU  AGENT 


FACES 

ARABELLE      ,       .       .       .  15 

ARTHRITE  BACON       .       .  17 

RAPHAEL  LENSKI       .       .  19 

RUTH 21 

ARKEL  ARONIAN        .       .  23 

DR.  DEVINE         ...  25 

SIMON  WEAVER   ...  27 

ELISE 29 

MICHAEL  ELDER        .       .  31 

M.  JAMES      ....  33 

JUKES 35 

/ 

LEANDRE     •         ...  37 

/  /  * 

CELESTE  DEREME       .       .  39 

IVAN  KARENINE  ...  41 

WHILEMINA  WINTER  .       .  43 

SIDNEY  FALK       ...  45 

PAUL  DRAEMER  ...  47 

A.  BLY 49 

MRS.   SMITH-REEDER        .  51 

HORATIO  HINKLEMITT  53 


ii 


PROLOGUE  BY  THE  ELEVATOR  BOY 


You  see  me  as  the  elevator  boy, 

But  the  actuality  of  my  position  is  ephemeral ; 

In  a  year  I  shall  receive  a  degree  in  medicine 

And  go. 

Meanwhile  I  study  the  colossal  symbol  of  a  human  being 

In  this  pile  of  masonry 

That  sanctions  the  ugly 

In  ornament,  in  smiles,  in  sex. 

I  hear  a  human  anger  in  my  signal  bell. 

The  shaft  down  which  the  elevator  slides 

Is  the  spine  to  keep  the  system  together; 

And  the  corridors  are  nerves  that  link  each  room 

As  heart  and  brain  that  strive  in  secret. 

Am  I  responsible  to  have  said  it? 

Or  responsible  only  so  far  as  I  have  seen  the  scheme  unfairly  ? 

Abnormal  and  abortive  matter 

Tighten  the  leash  on  truth. 

To  deceive  is  to  establish  an  enemy  — 

Which  brings  me  to  the  theme 

That  scars  and  shadows  Jevons  Block. 


PROLOGUE  BY  THE  ELEVATOR  BOY,  continued 


It  is  the  subconscious  enmity 

Of  the  men  and  women  in  it. 

You  may  hear  it  in  the  labored  breathing, 

See  it  in  the  eyes  that  seek  for  salvage 

As  hawkers  swoop  and  seize  in  isolation. 

If  sex  were  meant  to  be  an  inhibition, 

Would  God  have  planned  it  in  dependent  atoms  ? 

The  poet  speaks  as  though  it  were  a  cloak 

To  smarten  the  circumstance  of  living — 

Poor  old  flabby  Bacon — 

Miss  Ruth*  s  too  young  to  know  beyond  solicitation — 

Some  never  see  the  enmity  of  sexes, 

Having  minds  that  sift  no  ash — 

But  Anabelle  is  scarred  and  states  the  reason, 

And  Draemer  says  a  woman  is  the  open  door  to  boredom. 

In  each 

The  over-sense  of  sex 

Idles  the  libido  to  sterile  purpose 

And  motivates  in  Jevons  Block 

To  evade  responsibility. 


ARABELLE 

Perfumes  and  Cosmetics 


I  dislike  men, 

Dislike  them  for  the  strain 

They  put  on  women. 

If  I  didn't  have  to  earn  a  living 

I'd  snap  my  fingers  at  this  fading  hair  of  mine 

And  let  the  colour  in  my  cheeks 

Begin  to  go. 

I'd  sit  down  to  it 

And  rock  my  age  in  comfort  by  the  fire. 

Forty-seven  and  poor  - 

If  you're  single  — 

Is  the  devil  of  a  combination  for  a  woman. 

Every  time  a  married  one 

Comes  in  to  buy  a  box  of  rouge 

I'd  like  to  tell  her  she's  a  fool  to  do  it 

When  she's  not  obliged  to  look  young. 

Once  I  said  as  much 

And  the  woman  answered 

"I  guess  you're  not  married 

Or  you'd  know  the  reason". 

I  dislike  men 

For  the  strain  they  put  on  women. 


T\ 


16 


ARTHRITE   BACON 

Poetry  Bookshop 
* 

I  married  a  famous  palmist 

In  Leipzig  — 

Joined  myself  to  one 

Who  had  imagination  but  no  rhythm  in  her  soul  — 

To  gain  a  home 

Long  since  dissolved  by  extravagance  and  death. 

It  was  my  desire  to  live  well; 

In  Paris  if  I  might  choose 

Where  poets  are  not  so  much  the  fashion 

As  the  feeders  of  a  lyric  nation. 

The  Alexandrine  was  my  metre, 

None  it  seems  care  about  that  in  this  country. 

And  not  to  starve  I  stilled  my  song 

To  vend  the  songs  of  other  poets 

Whose  vocation  is  but  avocation  now  with  me. 

Fate  has  not  been  friend  to  me. 

Could  I  have  loved  like  Rupert  Brooke 

Or  lived  like  Amy  Lowell 

I  ask  you  fairly  to  decide 

If  I'd  be  urging  you  to  buy  their  books 

Instead  of  selling  my  own? 

17 


18 


RAPHAEL    LENSKI 

Osteopath 


What  would  Buonarotti  say 

Who  worshipped  Vittoria 

And  the  sparse  line  of  the  Sistine  Chapel 

If  he  could  see  the  bulk  of  crepe  kimono 

I  must  model  with. 

Great  thighs  and  sagging  breasts, 

Muscles  I  can  never  tighten 

'Though  I  punch  and  pound  and  stretch 

Until  some  women  shriek  to  stay  me, 

But  they  always  come  again 

In  supine  endeavor  to  get  thin. 

Sometimes  one  imagines  I  love  her ! 

Lord!    They  make  me  sick, 

These  women  yearning  for  a  new  sensation. 

Do  they  think  that  I  would  touch  them 

If  I  were  not  paid  to  do  it. 

Master,  listen! 

My  lovely  lady's  shrined  next  door. 


RUTH 

Flower  Shop 


Days  when  trade  is  dull 

I  dream  of  flowers  that  do  not  grow  in  dozens 

Wired  for  a  funeral  or  a  f£te. 

Somewhere 

I  imagine  meadows  swaying 

With  whatever  colour  they  may  be, 

Ten  thousand  thousand  blossoms 

Free  their  hearts 

To    a  robin  or  a  chick-a-dee. 

And  I  may  pull  them  for  everyone's  possession. 

Companion  all  the  city  children, 

To  old  ladies  send  surprise  bouquets, 

Pin  a  flower  on  my  lover's  jacket 

Every  noon  at  one. 

And  if  the  sun  is  over-hot  with  shining 

And  the  night  is  late  to  come, 

It  is  no  matter. 

There'll  be  just  as  many  more 

Tomorrow  morning 

Fresh  to  feel  the  sun. 


ARKEL   ARONIAN 

Rugs  Woven  and  Repaired 


Weaving  rugs  to  please  a  rich  man 

Weaving  luck  for  me, 

Rich  man,  poor  man, 

Waiting  for  a  rug  to  finish 

Fortunes  to  compare! 

White's  for  luck  in  red  Bokhara, 

Red  of  warp  and  woof  to  wear. 

White  to  sign  a  compact  with  the  Devil 

Shunting  off  all  evil 

From  my  son. 

Red  of  thread  to  savour  him 

White  to  spare  — 

Pearls  to  play  with 

And  to  ask  a  prayer  - 

Sleep  my  son  in  God's  securest  silence. 

Thy  father'll  not  have  done 

The  red  Bokhara 

'Til  the  spring  and  thou 

Are  come. 


DR.    DEVINE 

Physician 
* 

Today 

I  am  surfeited  with  women 

Their  streaked  faces  bore  me. 

Whys 

Listened  to  before, 

Eyes, 

Wet  and  bent  to  implore, 

Ask  for  quarter  — 

Weak  to  meet  a  ghost 

When  strong  they  went  to  seek  it  — 

I  do  not  share  in  their  delight, 

Why  must  they  shamble  at  my  door 

With  secret  bills  and  moist  supplication 

To  bribe  me  to  break  the  law? 

I  do  and  I  may, 

But  for  today 

I  shall  leave  these  painful  ladies 

To  palliate  their  sins  to  someone  else 

Who'll  chance  their  wage. 


SIMON    WEAVER 

Bric-a-brac  Repaired 


My  neighbor  is  closeted 

All  day 

With  lovely  ladies, 

They  hold  his  hands  and  weep. 

If  one  should  smile  at  me 

I  would  wipe  away  her  tears 

With  my  apron, 

And  join  together 

The  broken  wings  of  her  grief. 

I  will  ask  my  neighbor 

To  bring  me  a  lovely  lady 

To  mend . 

He  is  walking  down  the  street 

Swinging  a  stick 


27 


,« 


ELISE 

Coi/euse 


Yes !     I  know  Madame 

She  asked  for  me 

And  she's  a  millionaire 

But  I  hate  her  smell. 

You  said  yourself  the  last  time  she  was  in 

'Twas  like  a  polecat  — 

An'  she's  got  sunken  tubs  to  every  chamber, 

I  heard  her  tell  it  — 

A  facial!     And  curl  her  hair! 

Gawd! 

The  thermometer's  a  hundred. 

You  say 

If  I  don't  do  it  I  can  go! 

Where'd  I  go  in  August?. 

No  I  wouldn't, 

That's  where  you  get  off. 

This  way  Mrs.  Smith 

There's  a  breeze  that's  blowing  by  this  window. 

Let  me  have  your  hat, 

Sailors  are  so  smart  with  linen  suits. 


nitkcul  Ej  ^et 


MICHAEL    ELDER 

Hats  Reblocked 


I've  worked  on  hats  since  I  was  seventeen 

And  now  I'm  close  to  seventy. 

Straw  for  tulip  and  the  caring  weather, 

Felt  for  winter  — 

Fits  more  firmly  on  old  men's  hair  - 

Wide  brim  narrowed  by  a  quarter  inch 

(Shows  as  though  'twas  on  your  nose  to  some) 

Ribbon  freshed  and  curve  pressed  straight. 

Once  I  used  to  ponder 

Why  a  hat  should  need  reshaping 

Just  the  time  some  man  had  formed  it 

To  a  firm  and  fellowed  feeling 

By  a  few  months  wear. 

I  have  learned 

Through  feeling  bands  that  sweat  to  fit  a  brow, 

That  men  with  brains  inside  their  heads 

Wear  their  hats  the  longest. 


M.  JAMES 

Manicure 


I  have  known  hands  all  my  life. 

It  is  my  bread  to  tint  an  ageing  palm 

That  scants  its  tip  for  rosaline 

And  the  careful  removal  of  dry  flesh. 

Butter  for  my  bread 

I  buy  from  fingers  that  make  light  with  mine 

And  slide  a  dollar  in  between  to  make  it  right. 

Hands  are  mostly  all  alike 

Thinking  through  their  fingertips 

Of  bargaining  and  lust. 

But  his  are  different, 

Lean  and  unconcerned  with  me. 

Even  when  lying  idle  in  soapy  water. 

Just  to  feel  his  fingers  for  five  minutes 

Pd  perfume  them,  without  money, 

To  philander  at  another  breast  than  mine. 

But  some  day  — 

Before  I'm  faded  with  the  wanting  — 

I  shall  do  his  nails  in  the  farther  room 

And  take  the  pay  for  waiting 

There. 

Little  enough  it  will  be 

But  long  cherishing  quick  spent. 

33 


34 


JUKES 

Appraiser 


All  life's  for  shrewd  appraising. 

Fools  and  dreamers  take  a  turn  at  telling  values 

And  philosophers  have  tried  it. 

Some  measure  men  by  bed  and  book 

That  all  the  world  may  see  to  look  - 

The  fools  are  these. 

And  some  will  regulate  the  count 

By  what  they  are  themselves  — 

These  are  dreamers. 

Household  sticks  aren't  much  to  price  a  life 

That's  furnished  by  secrets  and  long  sittings; 

Nor  much  to  make  a  living  by  perhaps  you'll  think, 

But  that's  the  humor  in  the  plan 

Though  few  will  laugh  to  feel  it. 

Grotesques  — 

In  low  or  high  relief  — 

We  fill  the  earth's  entablature 

With  ashlar  or  with  clay, 

And  form  its  decoration . 

When  I  tiptoe  through  empty  dwellings 

And  see  in  dusty  mirrors 

Doubts  and  potent  failures 

That  grimace  in  over-ponderous  flesh 

I  am  too  terrified  to  laugh. 

These  the  Great  Appraiser  will  inspect 

When  I  have  left  my  human  house  untenanted. 


LEANDRE 

Sample  Shoes 


Staccato  women 

Wear  out  paid  for  leather 

Seeking  newer  shoes. 

Foolish  shoppers 

With  their  busy  quests  and  baffled  eyes. 

Sometimes  one  is  sorry  for  me 

Selling. 

There  is  recompense  for  every  service. 

And  all  the  day 

Through  which  my  long  reflective  fingers 

Feel  the  urge  beneath  the  silk 

I  am  content  to  linger 

At  your  unshod  feet. 


37 


CELESTE   DER1EME 

Corsetiere 


Nietzsche  says 

Woman  has  cause  for  shame 

If  she  unlearns  her  art  of  charming. 

But  he  had  no  more  transparent  plane 

From  which  to  analyze  the  world 

Than  I  who  corset  idle  women 

And  stand  to  labour  to  their  conversation. 

Tiens!     Aphrodite  is  long  dead 

And  her  progeny  are  become  asexual  marionettes 

To  dance  and  not  pay. 

Some  women  aid  slackened  muscles 

With  steel  and  satin  stripes, 

Some  buy  stiffened  nainsook 

To  shape  their  barrenness, 

And  mirrors  flatter  the  deception. 

Yesterday  I  measured  a  fevered  creature 

To  suckle  a  child 

And  she  completes  the  metaphor. 

Clothed  in  renascent  flesh 

A  mirror  seemed  the  last  place  that  she  cared  to  look. 

When  I  rejoiced  to  see  comeliness 

Arrows  pointed  in  her  eyes. 

She  was  too  deceived  by  fantasie 

To  divine  her  glory. 

39 


I 


40 


IVAN    KARENINE 

Dancing  Master 


One  step  —  two  step  — 

Pardon  if  I  use  a  pressure 

My  arm  dictates  the  measure,  Madame. 

Listen 

You  who  wonder  why  I  dance  no  longer 

At  the  court  in  Russia. 

War's  the  reason  — 

I  must  fight  or  live  elsewhere  — 

War  has  naught  to  do  with  dancing. 

War  is  murder!    Mars  its  wanton  father. 

Sometimes  Earth  brings  forth  a  bastard. 

On  a  silver  night  she  smiles  to  say 

"This  son  of  mine  I  do  not  breed  to  fight" 

I  was  born  within  this  Mother-rhythm 

Of  listening  feet  and  low  and  lissome  laughter 

Where  ecstasy  is  breath  and  measure  to  the  senses, 

And  I  can  never  be  a  citizen  of  slaughter. 

But  Mars  has  sought  to  snare  my  feet  with  battle  anthems 

And  all  the  day  inside  my  alien  head 

The  rage  that  sped  me  here 

Shrieks  to  follow  after. 

One  step  —  two  step  — 

Rhythmed  like  marching  soldiers, 

Swells  to  martial  music 

In  a  language  spiked  with  swords. 

41 


42 


WHILEMINA    WINTER 

Smart  Shop 


Once  I  dreamed 

My  mission  was  to  make  the  world  good  looking, 

The  women  I  mean  — 

The  world  is  round  for  men  and  slopes  their  way 

But  women  need  to  harbour  youth  to  stay  — 

Pm  not  for  suffrage,  as  you  may  think  from  what  I  say. 

But  I  don't  need  to  ask  a  favor, 

And  my  hair  has  kept  its  russet  fret  and  fleck 

(I'm  quoting  now  about  my  hair) 

However,  revenons  "a  nos  moutons  as  the  Frenchmen  say. 

I  bought  this  shop  from  a  girl  who  wished  to  marry, 

Planned  to  dress  no  two  the  same 

But  show  to  each  her  own  attainment 

With  clothes  objectively  designed. 

Before  a  year  was  up  I  saw  I'd  never  make  a  living 

Forcing  personalities. 

Then  I  figured  what  it  is  that  Eve  is  really  wanting 

And  discovered  —  what  no  male  has  ever  doubted  - 

That  every  woman  dressed  to  please  some  man, 

And  few  men  notice  what  their  women  wear 

If  the  price  is  right. 

Now  I  dress  them  all  alike 

And  they  are  better  pleased  to  look  like  some  one  else 

And  I  can  pay  my  bills. 

43 


^H'J««  UK 


44 


SIDNEY    FALK 

Drugs 


Miss  Winter's  just  been  in 

To  drink  her  malted  milk. 

She  buys  no  other  stuff  of  me  — 

No  boxes  with  their  value  in  the  label  - 

And  I  don't  believe  she  trades  with  Anabelle. 

She  says  that  all  a  woman  needs  is  work 

To  keep  her  circulation  up. 

Miss  Winter's  something  of  a  joker, 

Insists  that  husbands  are  like  drugs 

A  narcotic  to  the  nervous  system. 

She  says  she  dreams  of  life 

In  terms  of  dresses 

Just  as  I  with  drugs. 

I  wish  she  didn't  feel  so  strong  for  clothing  strangers 

But  it's  great  to  hear  her  say 

Deception,  respite,  dreams,  and  courage 

Find  in  each  of  us  a  sharer. 

And  I  can  wait  'til  she  is  over-tired 

To  alchemize  her  views  with  mine. 


45 


PAUL  DRAEMER 

Photographer 


Women  bore  me. 

Tenderly  they  say 

"Make  me  beautiful" 

And  then  lament 

If  I  let  a  wrinkle  stay. 

They  can't  see  that  lines  are  lovely, 

That  life,  not  youth,  is  gay, 

Or  they'd  abjure  the  struggle 

For  the  adolescent  surface 

Of  unworked  clay. 

Women  bore  me  by  too  little  knowledge 

Every  day. 

Always  they  are  thinking 

Men  are  keen  to  legalize  a  look 

Or  coax  them  to  loiter  on  the  way. 

Why  can't  they  sometimes  take  for  granted 

We  may  wish  to  look  away. 


47 


A.    BLY 

Taxidermist 


I  was  once  a  surgeon 

With  the  gospel  for  knife  — 

What  sin  begat  I  endeavored  to  destroy  — 

But  there's  a  strange  psychology  in  sinning, 

Men  pay  to  seek  it 

Who  will  not  spend  a  cent  to  put  it  away. 

To  say  my  practice  brought  no  supper  to  my  table 

Is  neither  to  disprove  the  existence  of  sin 

Nor  keep  vigil  against. 

Now  I  scrape  the  skins  of  animals 

To  live. 

Salt  for  their  hides  is  best. 

Somberly 

A  Javanese  monkey  sits  on  a  shelf 

And  obscenely  chatters  when  I  edge  my  tools, 

But  I  shall  not  skin  him  yet 

He  brings  trade  from  our  brothers. 


49 


MRS.    SMITH-REEDER 

Tea  Room  Manager 


Old  women 

Nod  bien  coiffe  heads 

Over  Orange  Pekoe 

And  the  bitter  green 

Of  English  breakfast  brew. 

Young  girls  come  in 

To  gaze  at  men 

And  bewilder  with  their  bodies. 

It  is  not  tea  they  drink  — 

Tea  is  a  sophisticated  taste. 

Only  old  women  know  this. 


kWilf*- 


HORATIO   HINKLEMITT 

Entertainment    Bureau 


The  Bible  says 

uBe  not  forgetful  to  entertain  strangers." 

No  doubt  you  are  surprised  to  learn 

I  read  The  Book, 

But  if  I  didn't  seek  a  smile 

In  Solomon 

Or  that  old  stoic  Epictetus 

I  couldn't  swing  this  entertainment  business 

In  which  the  humor's  more  apparent 

On  the  stage  than  in  the  office. 

It's  the  laugh  between  us  — 

Of  that  I'm  not  forgetful  — 

That  entertains  the  stranger. 


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